"Ferrers?" he gasped; "don't know him, I swear to God,
boss."
"P'r'aps," said Nott, with infinite cunning, "yer don't know the man ez
kem into the loft from the alley last night--p'r'aps yer didn't see an
airy Frenchman with a dyed mustache, eh? I thought that would fetch
ye!" he continued, as the man started at the evidence that his vision
of last night was a living man. "P'r'aps you and him didn't break into
this ship last night, jist to run off with my darter Rosey? P'r'aps yer
don't know Rosey, eh? P'r'aps yer don't know ez Ferrers wants to marry
her, and hez been hangin' round yer ever since he left--eh?"
Scarcely believing the evidence of his senses that the old man whose
treasure he had been trying to steal was utterly ignorant of his real
offense, and yet uncertain of the penalty of the other crime of which
he was accused, the Lascar writhed his body and stammered vaguely,
"Mercy! Mercy!"
"Well," said Nott, cautiously, "ez I reckon the hide of a dead Chinee
nigger ain't any more vallyble than that of a dead Injin, I don't care
ef I let up on yer--seein' the cussedness ain't yours.
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